


Demons, Disease, Dispare, and Hope

by corasays



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: I called Lucifer lucy, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:02:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corasays/pseuds/corasays
Summary: A night in Florence and a rather small ficlet that I wrote for Lord_Turnip!





	Demons, Disease, Dispare, and Hope

Prompt: a moment of doubt

** _Florence Italy, 1348_ **

A hooded black figure hurried down the street in the pouring rain. Not a soul in sight, as the figure walked through the corpse decorated streets. They were stacked on top of each other without a care like the boxes of goods that had once filled the very same street. They were marred by swollen pustules and the dark stains of dead skin. The rain pelted the cloak, soaking the figure to their very core. The fabric dragged heavy on the ground blending in with the shadows of the street, if one were to walk on the street at the moment they would mistake the hooded figure as death itself descending upon Florence. While it wasn't death it certainly wasn't a man, it was a certain red haired demon. Crowley always hated the rain, personally one of the worst things god had ever created. It was dreary, and dark and didn't really work with his cold blooded form. But here in Florence it was fitting,it looked as if misery blanketed enveloped the city and it in a way it had. The rain ran in streams down the street, tainted a sickly yellow from the puss.

A high pitched wail caused the demon to whip around in alarm. Tense and alert, but his snake eyes only saw a human woman draped over a body covered with the tell tail dark splotches of the plague. Crowley had half a mind to intervene to prevent the woman from catching the same disease. However as he looked on he saw the body was small, much to small. His chest tightened as he looked at the battered body of a child. Another wail pierced through the once silent street as the woman sobbed. Her hands bunched on the child clothes and as she raised her head again he saw the same splotches that adorned her face. She had survived, but her child had not. Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat and tore himself away from the sight. He couldn't do anything for that poor woman now, he couldn't go against death. He left the shaking form of the woman behind turning down a narrow side street. His nose scrunched up as the pungent smell of the dead hit him full force. Crowley slinked forward the hood of his cloak now held up against his nose, trying to ignore the bodies that lined the street. Another figure stood further down and at the sound of his footsteps turned, the white mask of the plague doctor was illuminated by the lantern in the street. Crowley's stomach twisted at the sight and he had to turn once again. He couldn't get close to the so called ‘doctors’, they only served as a reminder of the memo hell had sent him.

‘ _ A gift for your excellent work dear. - Lucy’  _ A plague mask made of ivory was sitting on the desk painted finely with patterns twisting around the eyes and mouth. It seemed to mock him and how close he had grown to humanity. He set the damn thing on fire.

The lantern cast an eerie glow down the street and he sped up as he saw the sign beneath it. He rushed towards it letting a sigh of relief escape his lips as he saw the run down tavern had a light inside. He swept inside and was met with silence, the merriment that a bar like this usually had was absent. Rather than people coming to drink with their friends people had flocked here to drink their lives away to forget the plague that lurked around every corner. His eyes scanned the bar for an empty seat before they settled on someone rather familiar. Crowley knew the tell tale white hair of his Angel and he was about to call out to him but faltered as he saw the state Aziraphale was in. The usually plump form of the angel was now painfully thin similar Crowley's form rather than his own. Deep bags marked the cheeks where smile lines used to crinkle with an understanding smile. However the most surprising thing was the tower of glasses that was slowly building beside him. He saw Aziraphale wave for another drink and down it without flinching rather than the usual sipping. Crowley slowly made his way over, taking the empty seat beside him. Aziraphale didn't even look over, just staring down into the now empty glass. Crowley reached out to him and his hand brushed his shoulder and the angel recoiled like he had been burned. He whipped his head to the side and the tension in his shoulders lessened slightly. The usually kind blue eyes were fractured but they still lit up ever so slightly at the sight of his best friend. "Crowley." His voice was soft and he cracked a small smile. "Angel-" Crowley tried to convey everything into that one word. _ What happened? Why do you look like this? What can I do? _

Aziraphale let out a wet laugh, "I know I look like shit". Crowley didn't know how to respond to this, his Angel looked so thoroughly broken. As he sat stunned, the angel ordered another round for himself and one for Crowley. Crowley wanted to say something but as Aziraphale gestured to the glass it became clear it would take a lot more alcohol to talk about it. Aziraphale for once was the first one drunk, although he was already pretty far along when they started. The bar was quieter as most of the patrons had finally gone home for the night. Yet Crowley and Aziraphale sat there drinking like it was the end of the world and with so many deaths it felt like it was.

"I got a letter of commendation for my fantastic work". Crowley spat swallowing another glass of the mystery drink."For sending so many souls to hell and tempting people to steal".

Crowley’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the glass. He may be a demon but he never liked death.

"So did I." Aziraphale let out a wet chuckle. Crowley looked at him in shock, why the hell would heaven commend Aziraphale for something like this. "Gabriel himself wrote to me,  _ praising me _ -," his voice cracked with emotion. He took another swig of his drink before continuing "He had never seen so many people come to devote themselves to the church." At this point, tears began to leak from his sky blue eyes. "They gave me a fucking commendation. They gave me a  _ commendation _ -" his hands shook, "For all this death!" 

More tears began to pour down his sallow cheeks his breaths heaving. “Sometimes I doubt-” He choked between sobs, “If the great plan is worth it. Why would she want this Crowley? Why do they have to  _ suffer?! _ ” Crowley inhaled sharply, that was the question that had tripped him before he fell, if Aziraphale was even thinking of questioning heaven he's at risk. Before he could say anything the angel as he began to cry in earnest. Crowley sat uncomfortably next to him as he sobbed, but when Aziraphales breath hitched he couldn't help himself as he pulled the angel into a hug. The stuttering breathing stopped and Crowley tensed.  _ Had he done the wrong thing? Aziraphale wasn't always one for touch. Was this to long to hug? He should pull- _ Crowley’s spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the Angels arms snaking their away around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. " _ Thank you _ ". Aziraphale thanked his voice muffled but no less sincere.

Crowley pulled away just enough to look at Aziraphale, wincing again at the sight of his painfully thin form. "Well angel care to join me for some food."  _ Please eat something _ Crowley said, disguising his concern behind his usual swagger.

"I would love too."  _ Thank you for just being here with me. _

  
  



End file.
